Forgotten
by Tempest Bound
Summary: We bury love; forgetfulness grows over it like grass. That is a thing to weep for, not the dead. -Alexander Smith. AU. Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

_Forgotten_

* * *

Her stomach growls. That's what wakes her. Pain throbs in her head, her side, her _body_. A desert rivaling Kabegami's Domain claims her throat. But it is her stomach's protests against its emptiness that wakes her. She groans and tries to move her arm.

That simple movement saves her life.

"Hey, did you hear that?" says a voice, presumably to another person. "Did something move over there?"

"Now that you mention it...is that a mannequin?" asks another, a male again.

"No, it's a girl!" yells the first voice. Footsteps. "Are you okay? Miss? Miss! Hang in there while we call an ambulance." A warm hand presses on her forehead. "Can you talk to me? What's your name?"

All they get is a groan in return before she passes out again.

* * *

"—did you find her?"

Cool sheets press against her palms. Something is attached to her wrist, and her legs are bare. _Or am I wearing a skirt?_ Her eyelids are heavy and won't cooperate.

"We found her in the field next to the Telling Hall."

"Okay. What were you two doing there?"

"We were just hanging out, you know? Just having fun. Then she moved and made a noise; that's how we found her."

"Okay. Would you mind if someone were to come back to ask for more information?"

She decides she's had enough blind-guessing. She forces her eyes open, and the florescent lights burn her eyes. She groans, wishing her arm were up to covering her face and shuts her eyes against the light.

"Ah, she's awake. Call the doctor, will you?"

"Y-yes, sir!" There's the sound of a door opening, and the noises of a hospital rush into what she assumes is a room. Her room. "Doctor! Nurse, can you find the doctor? She's awake."

A few moments later, footsteps come in, closing the door. A new voice speaks. "I thought you said she was awake."

"She is. She opened her eyes before."

"Hm." Footsteps. "Can I ask you to leave?"

"Of course, doctor." Two pairs of footsteps leave. A pause.

"Detective, can you leave?"

"Sorry, I can't. I have specific orders to speak to her once she is awake."

A sigh comes from next to her. Despite herself, she flinches faintly. "Very well." A hand finds hers and squeezes. "Miss, can you squeeze my fingers?"

She does. Her fingers ache.

"Good, good. Can you open your eyes?"

_ And face the pain again?_ she thinks, but tries. Her black eyes sting and burn, but she succeeds.

"Okay. Can you speak?"

Breath wheezes out. No sound. She mouths something, but nothing. A squeak. Her throat doesn't vibrate. She can speak, but not now. _What happened to my voice?_ She shakes her head after a few moments, getting frustrated.

"Okay. Hm. Interesting." The doctor looks over to the man near the door, a serious looking fellow with a beard. She notices that the doctor has strange red tattoos on his face. A black, wind-like design peaks out from under his sleeve, inked into the skin of the back of his hand. "Detective, could you spare a paper and pen?"

"Doctor, are you sure she should be writing in her condition?"

"She suffered many injuries," the doctor says, "but none were to the head. I just wish to see if she is lucid, but she can't speak."

"Fine, fine," the detective says irritably, tossing the doctor his pad of paper, attached to which is a blue pen. "But don't blame me if she hurts herself."

The doctor doesn't say anything but hands it to her. Though her grip is weak, it's still firm enough to scrawl. He helps her sit up on her white-sheeted bed. "What year is it?"

Numbers, fuzzy, appear on the paper. The doctor nods at the number. "Good. Who's the Chosen of Amaterasu's Domain?"

Her brows furrow. Is that a trick question?_ No one,_ she writes. _She's dead. They've yet to Choose another._

The doctor's eyes widen. "Quite right. I forgot. What's your name?"

That's where it blurs. Her mind tilts. _My...name?_ Her hand moves. _Ama—stop. _She scratches it out. _Ammy. Better._

"Ammy? Common name. What's your surname?"

_Blank. Darkness. _Her head droops forward. _Nothing._

"Ah. You can't remember?"

Ammy shakes her head. She wishes she could scream.

"How old are you, Ammy?"

_17._ Scratches it out. _18._

"So you've yet to choose your Path, have you?"

Another shake.

"Where are you from?"

_Black._

The doctor picks up on her cluelessness. "Do you know where you are?"

One look at his face and her surrounding is all Ammy needs to know where she is. _Yomigami's Domain,_ she writes. Her throat itches.

"How do you know?"

_Your ears. They're pointed. Your eyes are gray. And hospitals are usually in Yomigami's Domain. _

The doctor seems surprised. "You know this, yet you can't recall your last name?"

Ammy blinks. _It does seems odd. What selective memory I have._

"I can see you're just as surprised as me. It's okay. Maybe it's a suppressed memory? Either way, I'll let you have a rest." The doctor looks at the detective. "Unless the detective would like to ask you some questions?"

The detective clears his throat. "Uh, yes, I would, actually." The doctor places a hand on the pad in Ammy's hand, looking at her as if to ask permission, and takes it from her before giving it to the detective, who accepts it with a grunt. "Is it okay if I were to ask you some question, miss?"

Ammy nods. Her hand goes, absently, to her throat.

"I'll try to phrase them as yes or no questions. To make it easier."

A cool tube presses to the back of her hand, all the way down her arm. Ammy looks down at the IV stuck in her hand, which is obscured with some gauze.

"That's for liquids," the doctor says. "You were severely dehydrated when you were brought here. Now, I should be going." He gets up, bids Ammy and the detective good bye, about to leave, before adding, "By the way, I'm Yomigami, Chief of Yomigami's Domain."

The detective clears his throat once Yomigami leaves to get her attention.

"You were found in a field next to the Telling Hall by two pedestrians. You were rushed to the hospital. You had suffered multiple injuries, including a sprained ankle, multiple cuts and bruises, a few cracked ribs, et cetera. Lucky you even survived."

_Lucky isn't a word to describe the way I feel,_ she thinks. She touches the cheek-bandage again.

"That's a big cut. Doctor said you might have a scar. Now, Ammy, is Ammy just a nickname?"

Pause. For some reason, she doesn't think it would be a good idea to use her full name. So she shakes her head.

"Okay. Do you remember anything?"

Another pause. A slow nod.

"Can you write what you remember here?" he asks, handing her the pad again. Ammy takes it from him.

_I remember waking up briefly when the two found me, _she writes._ Then waking up here. I remember my name, my age, all I learned while in school. But that's it. Nothing else._

The detective nods to himself when he reads what she's written.

"So you went to school?"

Ammy nods, confused. _Why would it be such a big deal?_

"Huh. That narrows it down quite a bit."

Ammy makes what she hopes is her best confused face.

The detective notices. "Oh, right. You can't remember that only moderately rich families can send their children to school. So it narrows down the possibilities and gives a better chance of finding out who you are."

_ Ah._ Ammy nods. _Okay._

"That's all the questions I have for you right now," the detective says, "but it's likely you'll get more visitors like me later. I'll let you get some rest."

Ammy finds she appreciates the way he doesn't look at her with pity; merely a look of compassion and understanding. Maybe he has broken a bone before.

The detective helps her lie down again and turns to leave. He pauses, looks down at his pad of paper, at her, rips off the papers with writing on them, and hands the pad to her, along with the pen.

"Keep it. I think you'll need it more than me." And then he leaves.

Ammy stares at the pad of paper in her hands. Then she places them on the stand next to her bed, smiling, and lays back down to fall asleep.

* * *

The next day, they are able to get Ammy to her feet. It's her check up. The doctor, a man with kind gray eyes (Yomigami's Domain native) informs her she is lucky to have survived the injuries, not to mention avoiding a coma.

"Now, let's weigh you, shall we?" he says as he ushers her to a cold scale. Ammy steps up, shaking in her thin white kimono. "Hm. One hundred and three pounds. How tall are you?" The measurements are taken. "Five-foot-six? You're under weight."

Helping her limp back to the seat she had been sitting in, the doctor seems a bit grim. "Your weight and your injuries...yes, you are lucky to have survived your ordeal, miss."

* * *

Full list of injuries: sprained ankle, three cracked ribs (none piercing an organ), at least seven large bruises (knees, thighs, side, both arms), five deep, long cuts (cheek, arm, back, thigh, shin) which look like were caused by a tool of some sort.

Ammy hates how she has to take a wheelchair back to her room, or how it is hard for her to breathe without pain. Or how the world spins just enough for her to doubt that she didn't have any head injuries.

The nearest Telling Ceremony, where she will choose her Path, is that day. She will be taken there, she will choose, and then taken to her chosen Domain's own healers.

Ammy sighs brokenly at the white (thicker, thank Amaterasu) kimono they provide for her. The color is meant to represent her malleability as a Candidate. She is a new sheet of paper that will be imprinted upon.

Others stare openly at her as she is wheeled past in her wheelchair. Ammy vaguely wonders about her black, straight hair, but decides it takes too much effort to worry. Who cares about hair?

The hospital have already determined she is from Amaterasu's Domain, from her pointed ears, black hair and eyes, slanted features, and sharp canine teeth. Her cuts are already healing, her bruises fading, the pain dulling; those of her origins are notorious for their quick recoveries. But she still can't utter a word, nor remember a thing.

Her Telling Ceremony. Somehow, Ammy doesn't feel different. Yes, she is living and breathing pain (some doctors mentioned she has a high tolerance for pain) but that's it. She is forced to stand, but she bares it, only to be jarred by others eager to choose their Paths.

_What will I choose?_

Her heart tugs. Her body moves by itself, fighting to reach the already large crowd gathered around the representatives of Amaterasu's Domain; the seat usually reserved for the Chief is empty for the second time in eighteen years.

Many say that the past Chief was wrongly Chosen.

Some claim that her blood was not luminous, did not shine like the blood of Celestials, did not react like it should have when exposed to Holy Ink. Some even say she wasn't fit to bear Amaterasu's holy name.

Because, of course, according to officials, naming a child the name of a Brush God is a crime. Only those Chosen are given the privilege of being renamed such a title. But that doesn't stop people to name children the nicknames of these Gods; that's why Ammy is such a common name.

Ammy spots multiple Races: a couple Yomigami's Domain natives, a few from Bakugami's Domain, others from Gekigami's Domain. Oddly, only a handful is from Amaterasu's Domain.

Of course, if Ammy would even want to become Chief, that increases her chances. Only those from the respective Domain may be Chosen. It's one of the only rules Ammy agrees with currently.

Those from Amaterasu's Domain line up, single file, in front of a young man and woman.

Ammy recognizes them as Shishi and Shisa, respectively; they are the guards of the Chosen Chief of Amaterasu's Domain. Looking around, Ammy recognizes Basan of Moegami's Domain; Kasha of Kabegami's Domain; both, oddly, Gozu and Mezu of Yumigami's Domain.

Only a small group of people are the station of the last. Yumigami's Domain has never been known for its popularity, which has drastically decreased ever since the Moon Tribe's massacre. Only those who wish secrecy choose that Path; fewer still choose it for the isolation from the other Domains.

The line shrinks. Three people between her and her Path. The paper, pen and doctor's note in her hand make her already nervous stomach jump and twist. Two. The person holds out a hand after answering a few questions, has their finger slashed, their blood dripping into a small pot of what looks like Ink.

Every time, there's a hiss and a pop, and the person leaves with a disappointed expression and a new cut to nurse. One person left. Then none.

Shishi looks up at her, pale blond hair kept long like all Guards, ink-black eyes hard. Shisa, hair a white-blonde like all Guards (again), smiles at her. "Hi, sweetie. What's your name?"

Ammy hands the mangled note to Shishi. He reads it, gives it Shisa and signs something.

The large, thick scar on his throat makes Ammy cringe, and her hand goes to her own neck.

Shisa nods. "Okay. Ammy, is it? Can you hold out a hand?"

She holds out a hand obediently, watches as Shishi slashes the tender flesh of her fingertip, already leaving to wait with the others before even glancing at the Ink pot. She only pauses when Shisa calls for her to come back.

Maybe she does need to provide a surname; perhaps she forgot something. She turns back around. Her jaw goes slack.

As bright as sunlight, the Holy Ink shines.

* * *

**Tempest Bound: Haha, I've too on my plate right now...and another plot-bunny? Really, brain? **

**Anyways, this is a random AU story my mind came up for me while trying to fall asleep. Will this story survive brainstorming, or will it simply die off like_ Scars_ and _Sacrifices_? Only you, dear readers, can decide that! If I see enough interest in me continuing this story (enough is a relative term here; basically, I mean 'any') I might, if I don't get writer's block. **

**TL;DR: So will I continue this? You'll have to wait 'til next chapter for that!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Forgotten

Murmurs ripple through the crowd; a few curses come from the group of candidates. The entire line in front of Shishi and Shisa moves.

Some simply shift over to the other lines of Amaterasu's Domain, while others frown and stomp off. Ammy is left to fidget and bite her lip.

Stares turn the heat up on her blood. Her face turns a bright crimson. She clears her throat, levels a cool gaze at the spectators, and tries her best to glide back to the table and only half-succeeding with her ankle.

Shisa grins at her. "Ammy, I'm guessing you will be the next Chief." She gets to her feet. "Please, follow me. Shishi, come on."

Shishi, silent, gets up and falls into step behind Ammy. Or should she be called Amaterasu now? _No. Not until my Naming._

Mutters and venomous glares find their mark but all it takes is a glower from Shishi to turn their attentions elsewhere. Shishi, to be sure, is intimidating, not large but lean, with a dark stare that chills even the most hot-blooded. Shisa is pretty and shapely, though her strong arms show the truth.

She is like the deadly nightshade; beautiful and harmless and even sweet before you dare break the skin.

The small group pass through a torii gate, and Ammy feels her stomach stop twitching. A small speck of green light bounces up to them, and a high pitched voice—but distinctly masculine—sounds from within the glow. If she squints, Ammy can make out what looks like a beetle's shell and antennae.

"Who's the babe?" asks the speck (bug?), alighting upon Shisa's shoulder, pausing in its bouncing as if to peer at the new arrival. "What's yer name, toots?"

Ammy blinks, not at all impressed. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, motioning to her throat. First being Chosen, then a talking perverted bug. Surely, this is all a dream.

"Ooh, charades!" the bug says, seeming a bit cheerier. "I hate charades. Can't you speak?"

Shisa cuts in. "No, actually, she can't. Like Shishi." Shishi's face grows a bit darker, and Shisa places a chaste kiss on his cheek, as if she means to apologize.

Everyone knows of the two Guards' relationship. Ammy might have found the moment heart-touching if she didn't swear the bug is ogling her non-existent bosoms.

"Really? What happened to ya? Had yer throat slit like big boy here?"

Ammy thinks the question insensitive, not only to her but to Shishi. She glances over at the Guard, who simply glares at the speck.

"Issun, don't ask such things," Shisa says. "Especially to the new Chief-in-training of Amaterasu's Domain."

The glow melts into a curious yellow. "Yeah? She's the new Chief? Imagine that. And don't answer for her, 'Shi. She can tell me her story fine."

Shisa makes an annoyed sound in her throat. "Did you not hear me? She can't speak. She just got out of the hospital."

"I heard you. I can hear her, too."

_What?_

"Just think yer thoughts to me. Works wonders. Like this," and the words **.:What's yer name?:.** echo in her head, making her jump.

**.:What?:.**

**.:Ya heard me:.**

Ammy nods to herself. Yes, she's dreaming. But why make her dream angry at her? **.:Ammy:.**

Shisa sighs in annoyance. "Stop bothering Amaterasu, Issun. We have to take her to the healers."

"I'm not botherin' 'Amaterasu'. I'm botherin' Ammy," Issun says simply, clearly satisfied with his handiwork. **.:Too easy:.**

**.:How can you do this?:.** Ammy asks, now worrying for her sanity. Why ask a dream for sense?

**.:Long story short, I'm a Poncle:.**

**.:Any chance I'll hear this 'long story', bug?:.**

Clearly, this is the wrong thing to say, because the next words are out loud. "I am not a bug! It's Issun, traveling artist! How long will it take to get some respect around here?"

Shisa sighs, though she smiles. "Ah. I see she's already found out your favorite nickname. But, isn't she mute?"

Ammy imagines Issun rolls his eyes. "Do I need to explain everything to you? I can understand her and that's all you need to know!"

Shisa sighs. "Very well, Issun. Let's go."

Ammy looks up. Where in the Celestial Plain are they going?

* * *

Amaterasu's Domain. Capitol of the Celestial Plain, ruling Domain of the land. And it is her homeland.

Shishi and Shisa shift into Animal form; giant komainu replace their Celestial bodies, graceful, liquid muscles moving beneath coppery fur. Shishi's scar isn't visible underneath his mane.

Ammy smiles. This is the way to travel, but it seems almost broken, as if seen from afar. She'll be glad to get her Animal.

They pass beneath a torii gate. **.:It's great, ain't it?:. **asks Issun.

**.:What is?:.**

** .:Riding on Animals:.**

Ammy can't help but smile at the thrill of it all. Sure, she might be dreaming, but this certainly makes up for the disappointment she'll undoubtedly face when she wakes. Absently, she runs her thumb over her fingertip and finds the cut gone. Odd. Not even those of Amaterasu's Domain should heal this fast.

Shishi and Shisa, whose back Ammy straddles awkwardly, begin the ascent of Amaterasu's Summit. The cool gray rocks underfoot—under paw, rather—hardly seem to deter them from their path. The trip is short, though Ammy swears that the mountain must be enormous.

The summit greets them. The sun is setting by the time they stop, and Ammy takes a few moments to take it all in. Though she doesn't recall ever seeing neither the summit nor the throne before now, which isn't saying much, she sees it clearly. How could her unconscious mind imagine it in such confident detail?

**.:You aren't dreaming:.**

Ammy ignores the prodding thought of Issun. Instead, she glances around the summit, which stands in its full glory under the reddening sky.

The ground upon which they stand is perfectly smooth, polished not paved. A lonely white throne hunches in the far center, towards the north, pale and unadorned, raised on a two step dais.

Similar but smaller thrones, fourteen others in total, dot the rim of the summit, on daises of only one step. Each bears a different insignia. The center throne has the symbol of the sun etched into the surface of the back.

Clouds and fog, cool and refreshing, cover the floor, parting enough to see but cloaking enough for anyone outside to not be able to see in. The work of Kasugami, quite obviously.

Shishi and Shisa shift back and Ammy winces anew at a glance at Shishi's scar. A person clearing their throat behind her, in the direction of the thrones, makes her turn back around.

As if by magic, there is now either a man or a woman standing before each throne, except for the center one. A familiar face stands in front of the throne right of it. Yomigami.

"Honorable Gods," Shisa says, bowing formally. Ammy follows suit when she sees Shishi bow, as well. "The Holy Ink has Chosen the next Chief of Amaterasu's Domain."

Yomigami is the one who speaks.

"Very well. As always, a Test of Heritage before the Council must be performed. Chosen, rise and step forward."

Ammy gets to her feet and walks over to Yomigami, who holds out one hand. His odd tattoos flicker and pulse, like veins delivering lifeblood. "Your hand."

Ammy places her hand in his, and he gestures to the young man beside him. "Tachigami, if you will." Then, to an older man, "Michigami."

Michigami, a man with a kind and weathered face that is tattooed with red and black like Yomigami, silently pulls out a Brush and draws something in the air. Ink trails wherever he leads it, staying long enough for Ammy to blink. Then it is gone, and again a small pot of Ink rests near her unblemished skin.

Tachigami, a younger man, perhaps only a year older than Ammy, pulls out a Brush, too, but simply draws a straight line. The Ink is gone in a flash and pain blossoms on Ammy's finger. When she looks down, a fresh cut scars her fingertip.

All the Chiefs watch as a drop of blood lands in the Ink. The same phenomena, the Ink lighted up as if by an inner sun, again happens. Yomigami drops her hand, nodding and smiling. He looks around at the others. "Fellow Gods, the Chosen's blood shines, deeming her suitable for the position. Do we side with this decision?"

As if rehearsed, all Brush Gods exclaim, "Yes!" Ammy notices Guards behind each God.

And so the decision is made.

* * *

**Tempest Bound: No interest? No?**


End file.
